“What?” Liam asked, looking over at the man in the tavern, who had been staring at him. Or at least Liam felt he was staring at him. It was hard to tell these days, paranoid as he was. He’d barely gotten back to Nottingham after his long journey from London, and didn’t even know how he was supposed to find his brother, yet.
Quick to put his hands up -palms forward- in a placating manner, Allan denied whatever the other man was thinking of accusing him of. Though his continued, if a bit more scrupulous, staring couldn’t be helped much. For the other man looked far too much like Robin for this to be coincidence. Perhaps the other outlaw was playing a trick? or had lost his sense whilst Allan snuck away to a tavern for a bit of drink? That’d be a first.
❝I’m not being funny but you look…❞
Allan stopped himself short, catching his tongue before it could spill the rest of the sentence. After all, saying he looked like Robin Hood was a sure suicide call for himself out of association and a murder call to the poor block that shared a face with the infamous outlaw. If it wasn’t Robin playing a rare trick that was. Yet unable to leave his words at that, and face an unpleasant game of ‘what was that you said?’, the young outlaw merely befuddled his expression -frowning lightly as his brow drew together- then relaxing in an 'oh well’ sort of manner, Allan nonchalantly explained before going back to his drink.
❝Ah, nevermind. Lost me thought.❞
